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I lower my head, shake it.
He grasps my shoulder, squeezes once. “All right, son.”
35
Harlow
I wear a dress to work the next day for…reasons.
Both Jace and Jonah’s cars are already in the lot when Dad drops me off. Jace greets me with his usual head nod, and Jonah waves from the kitchen. I enter the office to clock in and drop off my stuff, and when I turn to exit, Jace is standing in the doorway. His eyes make a slow trail of me, from head to toe, the exact reaction I was hoping for from myreason.“What happened to you last night?” I ask, and his gaze shifts back up.
He holds my stare, his lip tugging up in one corner. “I had to go.”
“I figured that much.”
“But tonight?” he asks. “After work. You want to do something?”
I bite back the force of my smile. “Sure.”
Even though it’s as busy as any other Sunday, the day seems to d r a g. Every time I look at the clock expecting an hour to have passed, it’s only been minutes. By the time we finally clock out, I’m so giddy with excitement I can barely contain it.
Jonah disappears without so much as a goodbye, and then it’s just me and Jace, sitting in his van, engine idling while he stares out the windshield.
“So…” I start, and he faces me, eyebrows raised in question. “Where are we going?”
He finally pulls out of the spot, murmurs, “Nowhere special.”
He drives us into the woods that line our properties and to the exact spot by the creek he’s taken me before. It’s only been weeks since we were last here, but it feels like a lifetime. Nothing has changed about it. Same logs used as seats, same solar string lights, same firepit. The only difference is that now, he’s brought a blanket and wicker basket, and he sets them both down by the creek edge and sits.
I sit down beside him, the basket between us. He flips the lid open, saying, “I asked Jonah to make a bunch of stuff for us, so hopefully there’s something you’ll like in here.”
I tease, “Is this a date, Jace?”
But he’s so quick to answer “No” that I don’t have time to hide my disappointment. He tries to recover, saying, “Is it? I don’t know. It’s just… last week, you made me dinner, so I figured…”
“Right.” I look out over the creek, annoyed with myself for getting my hopes up the way I have.
“It can be date,” he says, his tone kicking up a notch. “If you want it to be.”
I laugh, but it’s sad, and it’s more at myself than the situation I’ve found myself in. “I don’t think it works like that, but thanks for the offer?”
We eat. In silence. Eventually, even Jace can’t handle the silence, because he says, “I would’ve cooked for you, but I don’t know how, so…”
“It’s fine,” I assure. “This is good.”
I’ve never been on a date before. There wasn’t a lot ofcourtinginvolved in my previous relationships—if one could even call them that. And it’s not as if I’ve been with a ton of guys. I’ve kissed some, slept with a few, but we never reallydated. I have no basis on which to compare such events, but I would assume it involves a time (after work), a place (by the creek), and an activity (dinner). Jace had planned out allthose things for me, so… I internally sigh, getting more confused by the second.
“Do you cook often?” he asks, and I face him, stare at his profile. His jaw works as he chews, his cheeks redder than usual. “Or do youliketo cook?”
I can’t help but smile. Jace—he’s not really one to speak openly, let alonetryto converse, but he is now. And I have to recognize that. “Only since we moved here,” I answer. “Back in Dallas, when I was home alone, I had the convenience of driving somewhere or ordering in, but here…”
“Yeah, we don’t have that here.”
“I can only really go grocery shopping in Fremont when Dad’s home, and I have to plan meals in advance, so learning to cook was kind of a necessity. I spent most of the summer finding recipes and teaching myself, but to answer your question, yes, I enjoy it.” In fact, most nights, I wish I had someone to enjoy it with.
“If you ever need a ride to Fremont, I can take you.”
“Yeah?”